


Peach

by erebones



Series: secrets to a good life [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just some porn, no redeeming qualities here</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Earlgreyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earlgreyer/gifts).



> for earlgreyer, for being so fantastic <3 probably takes place in the Secrets universe, at some point.

They’ve been like this for hours, it feels like. Wrapped up in the sheets, duvet kicked off ages ago into a heap on the floor, tongues sliding together and hands running over every inch of exposed skin, unhurried. Felix has been hard off and on the entire morning, but he feels so decadent and carefree that it doesn’t really matter. Against him, Carver is like a puddle, pliable, entirely biddable and soft, his hair wild and his lips red and swollen from use; Felix has him balanced perfectly on the edge of arousal, needy and willing but not yet desperate. It’s a good look on him.

“Look at you,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb against the slight cleft in Carver’s chin. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Carver whimpers something unintelligible and rolls his hips against him. He’s only wearing his briefs, and the front panel is soaked through, clinging to his erection. Felix palms it, nibbling Carver’s lower lip. He loves mornings like this—neither of them have anywhere in particular to be, and Carver is delightfully lazy, like a great big housecat, responding to every touch with low, happy sounds and nudging into his hand when Felix dares to retract it.

“Darling,” he murmurs against Carver’s throat, “will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” comes the breathless response, the first real word Carver has spoken in quite some time.

“Lay on your back, love. That’s it.” He strokes the definition in Carver’s stomach, thumb idling in the hollow of his navel, and toys with the waistband of his smalls. “Will you touch yourself for me?”

Carver’s lashes flutter, dark sweeps of shadow against his cheeks, and the flush in his face grows darker. Instead of answering in words, he spreads his legs a little wider and slides his hands down his belly, echoing Felix’s hand and following the path of his abdominals to the light trail of hair peeking out of his briefs. There he slides beneath, shoving them down to expose the tip of his cock. His left hand returns to his chest, rubbing slow circles around one nipple, and his right delves further into his briefs. Felix can’t see everything, but he can make an educated guess—he’s cupping his balls, rolling them against the root of his cock, knuckles standing out against the fabric. Felix catches his breath.

“Show me.”

Without a word, Carver obeys. He kicks his briefs off, shoving them down into the sheets with one foot, and curls a hand around himself. He’s so thick, the corona nearly the width of the shaft, with a plump head that Felix can remember very clearly being inside him the night before; the slight ache still persists, and his belly clenches at the sight of it. Carver’s hand slides slowly from base to tip and pauses there, teasing. He glances at Felix, and then at the bedside table.

“Ask for what you need, love.”

Carver licks his lips, a little slip of pink tongue that Felix finds utterly charming. “Lube. Please,” he adds, softly.

Felix leans over and retrieves the bottle from the table, then settles himself back on the mattress to watch. With the added slick, Carver grows more vocal, grunting softly and tossing his head back and forth against the pillow. His knees fall open at the slightest touch from Felix, and a murmured word or two has his free hand slipping past his balls to press a slick finger inside himself. “Such a good boy,” Felix praises, and Carver gasps and fists himself harder. His skin is so lovely and pale, pink as a peach and growing rosier by the second. Felix wants to kiss every inch of it.

“Two fingers, darling. Hand off.” He taps the wrist working at his cock; Carver whimpers but obeys, clutching the sheets instead. “Find your prostate for me.”

He can tell when Carver’s found it—his legs go rigid and he fingers himself more enthusiastically, knuckles butting up against his perineum in search of more depth. “Fee—love, god, _please_ …”

“Shh. Just a little longer, darling, you’re being so good. So patient.” He finally succumbs to the urge and reaches out, petting Carver’s inner thigh with a delicate hand. “Three fingers when you’re ready, love. Make yourself cum.”

Carver groans and screws his face up, but Felix is immune. It’s a little harder for Carver to come without a hand on his cock, but it’s not impossible, and watching him struggle inch by inch toward that hard-won peak is always a delight. With determination written in his set of his chin, Carver presses his ring finger in alongside the other two. His mouth drops open and he writhes, fucking himself on his fingers, sweat beading on his brow and cock laying fat and flushed against his stomach. Felix can smell him, his musk and need, infusing the sheets and filling the room—he slides a hand up his own thigh, desperate to touch but needing the delicious burn of anticipation.

The build is torture. By the end of it Carver is sobbing, hand working so quickly his wrist must surely be cramping, legs sprawled wide and heels braced hard against the mattress. His teeth clench and he arches off the bed; Felix can’t tear his eyes away. Finally, like a match bursting suddenly into flame, Carver shouts and he cums, fingers pushed deep and his cock spitting out ropes of white against his belly. He shudders, gasps, and doesn’t stop—another, smaller spasm follows, and then he goes limp as a wet rag, pink from navel to hairline and breathing like he’s just finished a race. Felix hums in approval.

“Perfect. You’re perfect, sweetheart.”

Carver’s dazzling blue eyes flutter open, dazed. “Fee…”

“I’m here.” He kneels up and braces himself over Carver’s spent body, petting the sweat from his brow and stroking his fingers through his wet hair. “All right, love?”

“Mmm. Better with you.” He doesn’t really have the strength to reach for him, so he just lets his arms flop wide in invitation. He grins, crooked and adorable. “’Less you wanna fuck me first.”

“Mm, tempting. But I think I’d rather just kiss you.” He dips low to kiss Carver’s smiling mouth, lips clinging when he pulls away. He opens his mouth to speak, but Carver’s hand slides into his hair and pulls him back down. He sighs and lets it happen.

“I love you,” Carver whispers when they break apart. Heat and affection swell up in his chest, and Felix curls against him, heedless of the mess on Carver’s stomach. “Can I touch you, Fee? Please?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and buries his cries into Carver’s shoulder as he slips his hand into Felix’s pyjamas and brings him to the edge of pleasure and beyond.


End file.
